


Kismet

by Leusinia



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 17:25:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10470234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leusinia/pseuds/Leusinia
Summary: On the island of Solstheim where secrets and destiny churn like waves, a mercenary and a noble discover a frightening past that lurks just beneath their feet. It begins with little things, dreams and the loss of time, and it progressively gets worse over the course of a year. Slowly but surely things fall into place- what room was there for love?[Re-posted from FanFiction]





	

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posted from my FanFiction account. Eventually it will have a playlist too, enjoy! c;

Eyes like steel and cheeks the color of roses, there was a moment of silence before the coming storm.

She was Breton, foreign among the Dark Elves of ash, and her cheeks were numbly flushed from the icy breeze rolling in upon the dark waves. This had marked that the winter storms would set in and the sea would get rough with the coming of Sun's Dusk. Standing on the docks the young woman stood stiffly, eyes like winter steel as they stared out towards the sea, and though her body was like a statue her heart sounded like drums. With each moment her heart thumped; quiet now but idly so like the eye of a hurricane.

Somewhere out there far beyond the dark horizon her heart longed for something she didn't know she had even missed yet. Raven Rock was fine for what it was worth but in all the places she had gone to with her family Solstheim was perhaps the one that made her restless the most. The Dunmer that had called this place home reminded her of something wistful, perhaps even melancholic. They often didn't see her when she would watch them in the little town during the day, they overlooked her on purpose she had deduced. They didn't like strangers and though she was the outsider the young woman understood. Stranger in a strange land, it was always like this when they had gone somewhere new.

But slender fingers tightened around flowers, they smelled sweet but old, like rot had settled into the once alive, pink petals. The wind from the ocean made her shiver and tighten her grip, they were flowers from Cyrodiil before they left for Skyrim. They were pressed tenderly between pages of her diary and it made her yearn like a lover yearned for their beloved. Cyrodiil was her favorite and she had missed it since being away from the great Imperial homeland. But here now upon the docks the girl felt that she needed to let it go, she was just being childish and she felt she'd do better without the longing. One day she'd return so there was no reason to miss it so.

And with that promise she said a prayer and cast it to the sea with the flowers, dark eyes watching for a moment as a sad smile formed her lips upright.

"Petals fall away, candlelight becomes cold," she said softly with a bite from the wind. "like a book with scattered pages the words become nothing."

Poetry, she loved poetry and in her heart she began to let Cyrodiil go. It was not to be a sad thing when the memories were meant to be so sweet. She loved Cyrodiil, why would she cry for it? With that in mind she scrunched up beneath her fancy robes and let out a mild chatter of teeth. The winds were getting colder as the night drew closer. It was time to return home to her family and see to sitting with them for dinner as they spoke of their day. They were like those in the market during the afternoons; often they wouldn't notice her presence whether it was there or not.

But with her shoes upon the dock she turned to make her way home. One after another the old wood creaked beneath her feet as weight settled upon it like a doe through autumn forests. Something about the noise put her heart to rest and the smile became warmer within the cold. In time Cyrodiil would be hers to love again, in time she'd return to the heartland of Tamriel and find her place, but for now she was only meant watch those who turned her a blind eye. A strange turn of destiny but hers nonetheless.

Quickly walking through the dark streets of the town made her hasten her step. There were noises that were off in the distance as she passed Glover Mallory's little shop and though with her head down she felt that something was amiss. Usually there were a few folk around, if even one, and yet there were none to be seen this night. It was noticeably unusual and with that in mind she decided not to stray from her path too much in fear of monsters lurking. There were a few things that the girl had noted as of late and in truth this was just another to a little list that the young Breton began to bear in mind. There were stories to Solstheim that made her a little uneasy and perhaps even a mildly bit nervous. Tales of dragons and monsters that lurked in shadows, she was old enough to know a story when she heard one but she was superstitious enough to know truth when it was there. And Solstheim was rife with stories with monsters meant to frighten.

In truth she loved folk tales. They were like legends but more special. Wherever they had gone she tried her best to jot down what she could learn from the folk around, Raven Rock proving to be the hardest to learn anything about. Often she'd catch people whispering low things to one another but not enough to make a real note of something. They'd quickly move away or change subjects when they saw her draw closer. The Dunmer were a tough people, tough like an old farm horse. She admired them for that though, it's what made them special. And in some ways they reminded the girl of the Orcs of Orsinium, although Orcs proved to be a little more ornery than the wayward Dunmer.

Suddenly there was a body in front of her then and she stopped mid step. Two, really, but the one directly in front of her was much larger than the one at the man's side. They were both dark elf, eyes glittering red against dark skin, and not kind in expression as expected. Staring up she met their ruby eyes with a clash of gray steel and for but a moment there was silence as they looked her over. There was a shiver as they did, it was different from the shivers created by the cold, and they were between her home and that of the smithy. There was dread then as the girl realized how close and yet how far away from her home she was considering the danger that reeked from the two, something that made her shiver harder with a disguised disgust. In all the times she called the dock her safety space since being here this was the first time this had happened. With that in mind it made this entire situation that much more frightening.

The large one grimaced at her though and the other gave her a look akin to crows, hungry and cruel as he leaned forward. He sniffed the air like a foul beast and she pulled backward, the midstep officially being retracted. There was a sound in the air and a harder snap of wind as she held herself. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't be 'ere alone," the thinner one mused while getting closer, fingers reaching out to snatch a strand of her strawberry blonde hair. "big bad ash spawn might come and steal ya away."

The girl stood strong like a flower in a winter storm though, a gentle grin curling her lips. "As monstrous and feral as they are, I'm sure they are much better company than those before me. Unless of course I am in the presence of such unintelligent beasts."

Her father would tell her that she had her mother's quick tongue. He also said that as ladylike as they had brought her up, she was as defiant as he was and often that wasn't much of a compliment. The two turned from crows to wolves then and their teeth were barred at the insult. The Breton never backed up though and in spite of her smaller stature she was like a rock against a wave. "You better watch your tongue," the bigger of the two sneered with a growing form. "Or I will wipe that grin from your face with the back of my hand."

In spite of the threat the Breton only continued to smile up at the men who stared at her like a piece of meat, eyes glittering like stars before dawn. Yes, she was born and raised in a form befitting a Breton lady but there was a certain streak of childlike defiance in her that made her a curious sort. She knew better than to poke at fires but for some reason she felt compelled to hold her ground this time. Perhaps it wasn't so much childlike as it was her trying to find the woman inside of her. Clearly it was clumsy, the words weren't truly hers just yet, but somewhere inside of her she was no longer afraid to say such things so freely.

"Idle threats are wasted threats," her voice was strong although soft, airy in a nipping sense. "especially coming from the likes of you."

The larger one gave a noise that reminded her of a troll as he wound up his hand and though defiant in not backing away the girl was quickly pulled to the side. The fingers around her arm were more of a shock than hearing the crashing of wooden barrels as the large dark elf backhanded one of the wooden things towards the door. The thinner one had her in his fingers like a snake had a mouse and though struggling at his grasp he was stronger than he appeared. The smile flickered slightly as he held her close to him, the feeling of a knife to the back of her dress then. There was a lump in her throat that reminded her of watching rocks sink into dark waters. He smelled strange and his lips were at her ears.

"Boss said not to hurt ya," his voice was like ice and her back stiffened to the blade as it slid upward with a chilling rip. "but I'm sure he wouldn't mind if ya were taught a lesson in holding yer tongue."

Thoughts of the flowers made her heart heavy then. Thoughts of her parents, their souls just behind her just out of reach, made her realize just how dire of a situation this was. Was her innocence to be stolen like this? Torn from her like her dress was torn from her body? Even if she screamed they wouldn't hear her, nobody would come. Like always those who called this place home would ignore the stranger, turn a blind eye to the thing not like them. A slight form of tears began to well at her eyes and her heart rushed with a chill. She was scared and she could feel the other one get closer too, his body just as repugnant as the one tearing her clothes. Magic, she knew magic but she was frightened by the thought of a blade in her back.

Another prayer and the shutting of her eyes, her fingers tightened into a fist, if she were to scream or defend herself then surely she would know the pain of a blade to her back. Thoughts raced through her mind with each tear and rip as the blade ran up the soft, warm fabric. The spots of milky skin showing became rosy with the cold and a tear stained her cheek. "Don't cry pretty thing," he whispered, it reminded her of death at a doorstep. "we will show ya that we aren't so bad."

There were footsteps then, a sound of blood in her eardrums thumping madly in tune with the ringing as the noise drew closer. Behind her someone approached, the knife to her back even closer, and within moments the sound of a new voice took hold of the frightened young lady. "Look at her, she's in tears, you're as wild as a pack of beasts." he was a man with a curious tone to his speech but a comforting one in her time of need. "How about you let her go? Or are you as senseless as you are brutish?"

The one holding the girl whipped their bodies around quickly and the pain of cold steel dug into her flesh. Before them stood another who wore what she had believed to be chitin. In truth Dunmer fashion was a curious thing but the matter of that was neither here nor there. Instead she concentrated on the fact that somebody was actually here to save her, or at least she hoped. From the looks of it he stood with closed fists, an endless stare from the unmoving man, and though the situation seemed less dire the blade made the girl pray a little harder for the situation turn out right.

"Oh? The real 'ero type are ya?" the snake spat with a cruel sneer. "When we're done with 'er we'll teach you a lesson in minding yer own business. Or would ya rather we do that first and make ya watch?"

"No, not the hero type," he mused back, there was the sound of a grin behind the mask with a thought. "I just like a good challenge."

And upon que the bigger of the two Dunmer moved forward with hands raised upward ready to fight. The other man who had intervened did nothing, stood proudly in his spot instead, and let the other draw closer. There was an eerie silence then as the moons of Nirn bore down upon them casting an almost haunting glow. The sound of trees blowing and the knife in her back made her heart race, one was surely to die here. How could someone not?

Then the bigger man wound up his fist with all the power he could muster and though unmoving the entire time it was quickly missed as the man dressed in concealing gear pivoted out of the way. Much to both her's and the brute's surprise, it was quickly returned with a punch to the gut causing an obscene noise to come out of the large one. There was a grimace behind her as the snake watched his man fail.

"You think you're clever, huh?" the brute spat with a heave of his shoulders. "You won't be thinking that when I'm done with you!"

There was an action that reminded her of a bull. The man gained himself after the hit and yet again wound himself up in a charge motion, only moments passing by as he shot forward to knock the other down. Except there was no impact, at least not the kind expected from such a charge. Instead there was the sound of a fist to the face as the clever man moved just out of the way to have the other ram into his closed hand with not only his entire body weight but also from the strength of the punch being cast. From where she stood she could feel the stars appear and winced slightly. There was a great heave and the sound of his body crumpling, a noise of a gruntled dismay behind her yet again. This time, however, it sounded more wounded than before.

"Don't think I'll be so easy," the snake said while backing up with his prize, the girl tensing up once more. "Ya think yer so clever, but yer not!"

In spite of her tensing the young Breton could feel the fear from the one behind her. The feeling of the blade was there but not so much now. It was then she felt herself and her power once more, no longer cowering like a rabbit in a trap. With open palms her fingers wrapped around his legs but he was too afraid of the other man closing the space on them to actually notice the grasp. They began to heat up, there was no longer a cold feeling at her back, and for the first time since getting here the Breton felt powerful. A smell of smoke came and the sound of confusion followed. "Eh?"

With a sudden twist the snake pushed her to the ground and gave a loud holler, his pants now smoking and flaming with a growing alarm as he struggled to work his way to the water past Glover Mallory's home. There would have been a laugh and a smile if there weren't tears still rolling from the corner of her eyes as the girl watched her would-be attacker flee. Before long his shouting was off in the distance and only the sound of waves crashing on the shore could be heard.

"You alright then?" The voice was soft, perhaps even soothing. Her eyes lit upward from her spot on the ground and noted the clever man standing before her with an open hand. At first the girl only stared at it, a little frightened and still unsure by strange men, but seconds passed of indecision and shortly after a feeling told her to take his offer.

"Yes, I think so." she replied with a whisper-like softness. The sudden wind made her shiver and as he pulled her up his eyes drew to the rip in her dress. From the small of her back to the tops of her shoulders the purple fabric was torn, the seams frayed and destroyed from the iron of the blade. What was left of the dress was haphazardly clinging to her, it made the Dunmer shake his head. They were cruel and it would have been far worse than a torn finery had there been no action taken.

"Can't say the same for the dress now can we? Such brutes."

There was a pause then. The gray of the girl's eyes lowered to the crumpled, unconscious mess before her and a feeling of distraught knots entered her heart. If she hadn't have said anything, would this still have happened? If she hadn't had gone out alone, would this have been avoided? For a moment the girl stared and found herself at a loss. Or was this fate? Would it all have happened anyway irregardless of taking precautions?

"Thank you," the girl said after just a moment of contemplation. "I... I don't think I would have survived if you hadn't have intervened."

Yet another silence drew close but it did not last long. There was someone else there now, someone familiar.

"Chantilly?" the voice asked, it was strong and instantly her eyes fell upon her father and mother. They stood astounded at the manor doorway and beside them stood another Dark Elf, Olyn Aralas. A family friend and the whole reason they had come to Raven Rock in the first place. Their eyes stared at the sight before them as if unsure what to make of it besides disbelief and scorn: their daughter, disheveled and half undressed, in the arms of a Dunmer with another at their feet unconscious. Their were tears in her eyes and if that weren't enough, the man who she was with had a sword at his side to make it all look suspicious.

"What is the meaning of this disturbance?" Olyn directed his anger to the male as the Breton girl stood unsure. "Why is Lady Lacroix half-exposed and in your arms? What foul play took place here? Guards!"

With the words shouted at the top of his lungs both Chantilly's parents and the two guards within the manor appeared to separate the both of them. The man didn't resist and yet Chantilly struggled at the guard's touch, if even a little, as they brought her to her parents. "Bring Captain Veleth," Olyn spat as he stared at the girl's saving grace, disgust and mistrust seething from him. "And bring Lady Lacroix some clothes. I would be surprised if she weren't already ill from such a disturbing event."

Now in the arms of her parents Chantilly found herself gathering her wits. Eyes staring at the unknown man, the young Breton woman shook her head as they treated him like the criminal. "Please, let him go! He saved me from being hurt." she said, voice still a little soft. "Please, don't hurt him!"

"Chanty hush now," her father said with a soft hand on her shoulders, feelings of anger towards the state of his daughter. "Don't feel obligated to protect somebody who only wished to hurt you."

Distraught more now than she had been in the arms of rapists Chantilly found herself beginning to lose her words again. They were parents, they weren't meant to protect their children even if they had not been there often, and yet there was a feeling of injustice that was beginning to take place. They held the man tightly and yet still he said no words. He was as mysterious as light through dark trees and though they had met under dire circumstances there was a feeling that she needed to protect him as he had protected her. But alas, she was only a child to them and her words meant nothing to the mind of a sure adult.

But then those who ran off to find the Captain were back, the Captain in tow with a look of confusion upon his face. "Lord Aralas, I came as soon as I heard. What's going on?" he said, his voice urgent but still kind. "I heard a girl was hurt?"

The Dunmer lord took one look at the suspicious man and gave a twist of his features before returning the Captain's eye. Chantilly, who stood beneath her family's embrace, moved from them subtly so. It was easier to get away considering one of the guards had brought her a warm coat and as she put it on the girl put herself between the three Dark Elves with a mad rush. One foot after another she got between them, her parents following in tow, and before they knew it their daughter was once again at the mercy of men. Both of her parents stared and her father gave her a worried stare, lips forming words that bit at her like the wind from the cold waters. "Chanty, what do you think you're doing?"

"Please, listen, it wasn't-" before she could begin her story, eyes defiant towards her father, there was a slight hesitation. "Excuse me but I never got your name?"

"Teldryn Sero-" he mused back in spite of the accusations against him, his first words since being put on the spot. "The best swordsman in all Morrowind is at your service."

Nearly raising a brow at his calmness Chanty instead decided to take a que from him. In order to keep things calm you had to be calm, right? Clearing her throat and adjusting her stance, the Breton girl looked to all the faces before her. Truly it was a scary experience but in order to do right by the one who did her right, she had to face those who chose to face him down. Finding the eye of the storm within her heart, a deep breath in and then out, she met their eyes with the soft gray like swords met ice.

"I was walking home from the docks before supper when two men stopped me," there was a pause after recollecting the events that happened less than an hour before. It made her spine shiver from beneath the warm coat and with lowered eyes she spied one of the men who still lay on the ground, eyes shut and fast asleep. Teldryn hit him hard and it was expected he wouldn't be awake for some time. At least thankfully so, she didn't want to be there when he woke up from that. Still she continued on, her voice quiet but unwavering. "And before I knew it they began to tear at my dress."

The Captain wandered towards the man who the young Breton stared at, knees falling to the ground to turn him over for a better look. "No surprise there. His name is Drathas and I suspect he was with a snake of a man- Ilen."

Both her parents and Lord Aralas stared down towards the man and the Captain, and though reluctant, they seemed to take her story seriously. Chantilly's father was curious though, stepping forward from his wife's side then, and took to Captain Veleth's side with a few careful steps. Both staring the unconscious Dark Elf over they found a forming black eye and noted that it was far beyond the girl's capability. Perhaps, maybe, they were wrong to accuse so quickly. "And where is this other man? I still see two before me." The Breton lord commented before taking to his feet after a moment of staring.

"After Mr. Sero intervened, I..." there was a pause that caused many urging looks from the group. Perhaps it was funny now but it wasn't so much then, she tried her best not to laugh at what had happened in fear of losing the seriousness of her defense. "I set him on fire. He ran towards the water and that was the last we had seen of him."

Many looks of disbelief settled upon the girl of gray eyes as she gave them a soft smile, her mother especially. There was a look in her mother's gaze that signified an almost proud feeling but still unsure of whether to let the man with her off the hook, her general expression was that of a worried matron. In this moment there was silence and whether they fully believed the girl was something she didn't dare ask. Instead Chantilly turned behind her and gave her savior a soft nod, a smile turning the corner of her lips. "And for that I thank you, Mr. Sero. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

"Irregardless of that we will still have to get accounts of those who saw. Surely there must have been someone." Captain Veleth said after picking himself and the unconscious man up. "But for now, seeing as how we have this one, we will let you go for now."

And then with that they had released him. Her mother, who had been mostly quiet the entire time, watched as the Captain and his men hauled the assaulter away. As she did she then addressed Teldryn himself, an air of sophistication and judgement in her voice. "I suppose the greatest Swordsman in all of Morrowind is expecting a fine reward for preserving my daughter and her innocence, hm?"

The Dark Elf didn't beat around the bush. "I do believe your daughter is worth every coin, don't you?"

Catching her father's glance there was a certain look in his eyes that made the girl slightly worrisome. Chanty's mother was a fearsome woman, many of her choices were shaded by an ever-working mind, and though they were a family sometimes the Matriarch of the Lacroix house was a mystery to even them. "I will pay the finest coin, of course," The Matriarch said after giving the man a curt smile. "After a night of dinner."

The man fell silent and the mother's smile widened, eyes dancing like embers in a fire. She loved power, loved having power over people especially. "A yes would suffice, Mr. Sero. Be at the manor by eight o'clock sharp. There is much that we must discuss."

Quickly turning and gathering up her husband and child, the lady hurried herself towards the door of the manor. Between the bodies of her shepherds Chanty caught one last look of the man who saved her and found herself staring. Lord Aralas, who had been quiet for the latter half of the entire ordeal, found himself with the mercenary alone. There was a raw feeling then as the two stared at one another. "You better be on your best behavior, Sir." the words were curt and were meant to frighten the other man. "Otherwise I'll see to it that you never step on this island ever again. I'm watching you."

Still no words to say, Teldryn merely watched as the Dunmer lord held his ground like a puffed up cat declaring his territory before turning around to head towards the manor himself. Behind him was his own nest, the Retching Netch in all of it's glory, and in truth he felt that there was nothing to be scared of. Raven Rock began to lose it's charm and he found himself finding it in the Noble newcomers, something that he had taken entirely too much of an interest in. If there was any way to get off this rock it was them, especially that girl. He would be good and he would play their game, if even for a little bit.

Unbeknownst to the mercenary, however, there were other things at work. Much darker, much more sinister things turning the wheels of fate and the secrets of Solstheim were unraveling. Far beneath the surface something lurked, those secrets oozed like tar, and Teldryn turned to head to the inn before they became ever more present. It was in the air and the wind rushed in from the sea like water in a sinking ship.

And it was watching.


End file.
